Trusting You
by mercy4jane
Summary: They've taken her daughter, her only child. The time had come, and her world has fallen to pieces. Now the one person she swore never to trust again is the only person who can help her. HGLM.
1. Sarah

Trusting You: Chapter One

Summary: She thought she had left that life behind. But when old 'friends' drop by, she realizes that she'd spent her whole life waiting for this moment. The time had come, and her world had fallen to pieces. Now the one person she swore never to trust again is the only person who can help her. HG/LM

Chapter One: Sarah.

--

**Sun** pelted through the kitchen window as Hermione cut a rosy apple into eighths. It was late morning and the murmurs of a young girl could be heard through the open door. Leaning backward, Hermione called through.

"Sarah, come get your apple."

No reply.

"Sarah!"

A sort of soft grunt was heard from the other room as the young girl tottered into the room, a sour expression on her face. It was clear to Hermione that she didn't want to eat her fruit this morning.

"Eat," was all Hermione said, pointing to the table.

Sarah clambered onto the chair and unhappily, yet obediently, munched her sliced apples.

"What are we doing today?" the seven-year-old asked her mother, her head tilted to the side as she watched her mother wipe down the dishes.

Hermione believed in doing things the muggle way, so her daughter could get the most of both worlds. She didn't want to be a lazy mother; she could wash the dishes without using magic.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. Normally, they would go out on a Saturday, being the only day that Hermione wasn't at work. "What do you want to do?"

"Play," came the simple reply through a mouthful of apple.

"Sounds like a good idea," Hermione said. She had brought a bit of work home for the day. She was beginning to get swamped at work.

"Can Ebby come over today?"

Hermione paused in her wiping; Sarah always asked if a friend from school could come over. The answer was always the same. No. Hermione couldn't risk having muggle children in her house. For all she knew, Ron could come barging in with a broom for a nose, or Neville could stop by with one of his latest magical hybrids. This wasn't a normal environment; it wasn't safe for muggle children.

"You know the answer to that," Hermione told her, resuming her chore.

The rest of the morning went by in silence. Sarah played with her dolls, Hermione poured over reports in her study.

It was mid-afternoon before a loud banging snapped Hermione attention back to reality and away from Mrs. Foghorn's dancing cabbage patch.

Hermione left her study to find Ron standing in the foyer, gripping a grinning cactus. Hermione paused, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She didn't need this right now.

"Ron, why is your cactus grinning?"

Ron looked down at her, horror-struck. "I don't understand what happened. He only looked at it. Lavender's distraught. He just looked at it, and then it… grinned. How is this happening?"

Hermione shook her head, taking out her wand and waving it at the cactus. The smile disappeared.

"Well I could have done that," Ron muttered, putting it down.

_I bet, _Hermione thought to herself.

"I can keep getting rid of these… problems. But how am I gunna send him to school in a year, 'Mione?"

"Ron, he's four. Things like this happen. I bet your mother spent all morning correcting her house with Fred and George. He's just a little boy, it's what they do," Hermione told him logically, if sympathetically.

"Sometimes I almost wish we were muggle," Ron muttered absently, staring at the plant.

_I bet_, Hermione thought again, mentally rolling her eyes. Ron said this so often now he was teetering on the edge of muggle-hood.

"Tea?" Hermione asked, not waiting for an answer, she wandered down to the kitchen, Ron following.

"Where's Sarah?" Ron asked, looking into the play room.

"She's not there?" Hermione wondered aloud, confused. She hadn't heard Sarah shuffling around. Normally the girl could sit there all day with those air-headed dolls.

"No," Ron said, coming into the kitchen. "Maybe she's in her room."

This wouldn't settle for Hermione. She had to know where her seven-year-old was. For all she knew she could be lying under a car. _I'm such a bad mother, _her voice echoed inside her own head. She ignored it as she entered the play room.

Pinned to the skirt of Sarah's favourite doll, Suzette, was a roll of parchment. Sarah never left the house without Suzette. Hermione throat closed at the sight of the note. It couldn't be, it just couldn't.

"Ron," she called, her voice shaking.

Ron was there in seconds. "Hermione, what is…?" he spotted the note. "No, it… they can't have. How?"

When Hermione made no move to take the note, he reached out to take it. Unrolling it, like it was centuries old, her read aloud:

_Granger,_

_Did you think I wouldn't find out? Don't come looking, you'll be too late._

_M._

A shell formed around Hermione, he's taken her. He's taken her only child. Her little girl. He stole her.

She rocked back and forth. She could tell Ron was speaking, but she didn't comprehend his words. A large thud brought her back to reality. Ron's fist was half buried in the play room wall. It was then that they both stopped, all eyes went to the note once more, but more specifically, Ron hand which held it.

"Ron, its bewitched. Drop it!" Hermione said, shaking his hand. Ron couldn't let it go; it was burning into his flesh.

"'Mione?" Ron looked at her, his eyes frightened, before he collapsed.

Poison Parchment. The note was meant for her. He'd meant to kill her.

Hermione quickly sprung into action now. Grabbing the front of Ron's sweater she apparated them both into the Emergency Room of St. Mungo's Hospital. Healers rushed towards them.

"It's Poison Parchment," she told them hurriedly, before they touched it themselves.

The healers buzzed back and forth around Ron, getting him onto a stretcher and wheeling him away. Hermione sat down to wait.

-

**Four** hours later, a Novice Healer entered the waiting room. "Miss. Granger?" It always stung to be called by her maiden name again. She had grown so used to being 'Mrs. Potter.'

"Yes?" Hermione asked, quickly getting to her feet.

"Mr. Weasley is out of surgery now. His wife has been notified. He wishes to see you."

Hermione nodded, following the Novice to Ron's ward.

Ron lay, shaking slightly, on a standard hospital bed. One side of his body from his shoulders down seemed to be paralyzed. His hand was wrapped in thick bandages and his lips held a frightening blue colour.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione covered her mouth with a hand. "I'm so sorry… I…"

Ron shook his head with some difficulty. He looked at her through puffy red eyes. "No, don't – be - sorry," he whispered softly, his voice strained, taking large paused between each word. He was obviously in a lot of pain. "Find – Sarah."

"I… I can't. Where would I start? I have no idea where they'd take her. Who would even help me?" Even as she said this last question she knew the answer.

Ron saw the moment of realisation. "You have to," was all he said.

"Ron, I can't…" she took a deep breath.

"Hermione, you're not thinking clearly," his voice was growing clearer. "What's more important?"

"Sarah," she replied, her voice a whisper.

"Then go save your little girl."

--

**Hermione** took a deep breath, composing herself. This would be the hardest part; with this over, her little girl would practically be back in her arms.

"Open it," she told the guard at her side. He nodded formally, waved his wand over the lock, turned the key, waved the wand once more and pulled the door open.

She stepped inside. A dull light filled the tiny room before her. The door closed heavily behind her, making her jump slightly. A ragged, newly-shaved, sunken-looking man sat silent at the table before her. His cold eyes followed her the entire way to her own seat opposite him. Sitting, her eyes never left his.

"Good morning, Lucius," she said, trying to keep the bitterness from her tone, and failing.

Lucius Malfoy raised an eyebrow and leant back in his seat. "Granger, I'm honoured. You came all the way down to Azkaban, to see me?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Cut the crap, Lucius. Your son has my daughter. I want her back!"

"What makes you think this has anything to do with me?" Lucius asked, his lips circling at the ends. He was loving this. "Why should I help you?"

Hermione looked down before meeting his eyes with a calm, sincere gaze. "Because she's your daughter too."

--

Elle, x.


	2. History

Trusting You: Chapter Two

Summary/ See prev.

A/N: Firstly, I would like to thank those who reviewed, and offer apologies as to the lateness of this update.

Second, I would like to explain that this story is going to stay on the track I have set it, despite what has happened in the Harry Potter Books.

--

Chapter two: History

* * *

The smirk faded from Lucius' mouth in an instant, his lips hanging slightly open. His eyes stared blankly at her; not angry, not shocked, just blank.

Hermione waited, not impatiently. She knew this would be a lot of any man to take it, especially since the act of this was committed eight years previously. But she was also conscious of the time she was wasting, she needed to find Sarah. The only thing that was keeping her from losing her head was the knowledge that if she did, she would never get her beautiful child back.

Finally, Lucius moved, his eyes gaining personality. Disbelief.

"Sorry, what?" he finally said, shaking his head as if clouded.

"You heard me, Lucius. Now, I want to know, do you know where she is?"

Lucius seemed to come back to himself. He spread his arms wide, turning his head to indicate the room around him. "Look where we are, Granger. Do you think I have endless communication out of here?"

Hermione sagged slightly, he was right. He was in Azkaban, and if Draco was angry at his father, he wasn't about to come inform him of the kidnap of his half-sister.

* * *

Lucius watched the most beautiful woman in the world crumble before him on the table, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. His heart skipped a beat.

It was near-on impossible to stand. If she cried, he would not be able to contain himself. But how could be containing himself now? He had a daughter… and Draco knew.

His mind whizzed, thinking, fearing, knowing. Draco would kill her, surely, he would. After the death of Narcissa five years passed, Draco was not the same person; it was as if he had lost everything. You could see it in his eyes.

And he hadn't Lucius for it. Hated him for the treatment of Narcissa, for the way his eyes did not reflect his son's sadness. And now he wanted revenge.

He couldn't let it happen. He didn't care so much about himself, but what Hermione. She didn't deserve this. Why should she be involved in the chaotic insanity of Malfoy ascendency?

'Because she had your daughter,' said a voice at the back of his mind. 'Yours. That little girl is a Malfoy now.'

This shocked him more now. He had tried hard to not let Hermione see his reaction before. His pleasure; and his pain. Or his desire.

His memories of that night were so vivid, the greatest night of his life. And to think of the result. He should have been more careful, look what he had dragged her into. Both of them, Hermione and his abandoned child.

Guilt riddled him. Filled every inch of him. How could have done? He did not think of the consequences. He just didn't think.

Hermione was staring at him now, her face distraught.

Unconsciously, his hand moved across the table to touch her. He wrenched it back, violently. He could not touch her; he could not do another thing to her. But he would help her.

He would find the child he helped create, and he would hide them, away from Draco forever, for as long as he could.

* * *

Hermione jumped slightly as Lucius' hand shot out towards her, then back again. She watched him suspiciously. He seemed to be battling inwardly, inside his mind. What could he be wondering? Would he do anything for her? Could be do anything, trapped her in this hellhole?

She didn't know, she didn't have a clue. Now, staring across the flimsy piece of wood that separated him from her, he waited again.

It wasn't a long wait, soon Lucius spoke.

"I have… ways," he said, his voice a tiny whisper.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. What did he mean? Her expression must have reflected this thought, because Lucius elaborated.

"Communication… People, outside. They may help. I could get some information. Anything I can."

Hermione saw it then, for an instant. His eyes conveyed his longing, desperation, despair, loneliness, and one thing she found it hard to place… Was it regret? Guilt…? Not for the first time in her life she wondered what he was feeling.

Hermione nodded, slowly, her mind still racing. "Please, anything. I just want her back."

Lucius hesitated a moment, then spoke once more.

"I'll…" He paused. "I'll need to know her name."

His voice was hesitant, and she saw it again, for a second. And then she knew how much this meant to him; to know.

"Sarah. Her name is Sarah… Granger."

Lucius' eyes pierced her, the hurt hidden, but the intensity all the same. She knew what was wrong. Her name, Sarah had her name.

* * *

It had cut deep. But what had he expected? How could Hermione have given her his name? Everyone would have known. Everyone. And Draco would have found them quicker.

But now he had it, the thing he needed. A small hope to keep the darkness and deterioration of Azkaban at bay.

Sarah… his light of hope.

He let him hand go this time, it leant across the table, flitting briefly on Hermione hand; the touch causing a spasm in his heart which he fought desperately to control.

"I will do what I can…"

"Promise?" Hermione asked, her voice laced delicately with pain.

Lucius nodded, "I promise."

Then she said it, her voice breath once more, the one thing that brought it all back.

"I'm trusting you."

* * *

_Lucius stood formidably before a young girl, her tears staining her cheeks. She was only sixteen, but she was glorious._

_But at this moment, the only way he saw her was broken. He could trace the way to her heart; he could see its cracks. And he knew, he had put them there. It was him._

_Her scream filled the atmosphere, sucking the air from his lungs. Everything was heavy._

_"How could you?" She screamed, her pain and anguish bullets to him. Then she breathed it, scaring him forever._

_"I trusted you."_

* * *

And Lucius saw this; he saw it all in the picture of the woman in front of him. No longer a girl, but a fully grown woman. More glorious than ever before. And broken, still just as broken as ever, perhaps more.

And this, his second beacon of light. A trust, a trust so deep he could destroy her with it.

He could say nothing to her, how could he reply to that? He couldn't even nod, acknowledge it at all. He captured her eyes with his own, and he saw it.

He saw the whole history played in her eyes, as she did in his. An endless play that would repeat over and over again.

Their history.

* * *

-Elle.


End file.
